


Five Hang-ups (+ One Hook-up)

by RandyWrites



Category: Batman: The Animated Series, DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics), Zatanna (Comics)
Genre: /marge potato meme/ i just think they'd be neat!, Childhood Friends, Drinking, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied Consent, Not completely canon compliant, Perspective swapping, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandyWrites/pseuds/RandyWrites
Summary: Early into Bruce and Zatanna’s respective careers, they began a less-than-clandestine relationship. And while ultimately it would prove short-lived, it was by no means insignificant.ORfive snapshots of Bruce and Zee briefly growing their relationship in a more romantic direction with one chapter of pay-off smut at the end bc I Needed To Be The Change I Wanted To See In Fandom and no one else was writing this Highly Specific Thing I Wanted lmaoif smut isnt  your thing (or if its the only thing u read fic for lol, who am i to judge) it’ll only be in the last chap so proceed accordingly friends!
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Zatanna Zatara
Kudos: 15





	1. History

She was just as enigmatic as he remembered. The confidence she carried with her onstage, the years of training poured into her showmanship, was present in every calculated step and wave of her hand. Even when her assistant missed a beat, or when an animal behaved unpredictably, she took each mishap in stride with unshakable persistence.

He expected nothing less from the same girl who insisted on staying by his side on his eleventh birthday; one of the very few people who managed to make him laugh without it feeling forced. A friend and peer who saw him for who he was, and not the tragedy that plagued him. 

It wasn’t long after the applause had died and the din of conversation and laughter arose, when he turned in his seat to see she had miraculously materialized next to him. Most likely due to his lack of attention than any magic she possessed, but it took his breath away, nonetheless.

No longer donned in a tuxedo jacket and fishnets, she now sported a white button down shirt, tucked neatly into dark window pane trousers. The magician now blended in seamlessly with the very audience she had just spent the past hour entertaining.

Giving him a wide smile, she took the seat next to him with all the grace of a dove in landing.

“Zanna,” he greeted, taking her hand for a gentle kiss along the knuckles, “You were amazing.”

“Just  _ ‘amazing’ _ ?” she teased, “I recall you telling me that my last show was ‘ _ phenomenal’ _ . I must be losing my edge.”

She turned away to order a drink from the bartender, a Manhattan and two lemon drop shots, before she picked right back up.

“I’m too young to be peaking at a Gotham hotel, of all places.”

“I was surprised to hear you were in town at all,” Bruce confessed, “Shouldn’t you be in New York, or Las Vegas? LA? Or, hell, even  _ Metropolis- _ ”

She gave only a dismissive shrug.

“This is where Dad cut  _ his _ teeth. It’s as good a place to start as any. A gig is a gig, and besides,” she smiled for the bartender as she was handed her drinks, before turning back to Bruce to emphatically finish, “Gotham  _ is _ home.”

As she handed off one of the lemon shots to him, Bruce reminisced for a moment.

It had been so long since they had last seen one another, all those years ago when they joined her father along his European tour. Their last conversation was a bittersweet parting, as teenagers pulled into different callings. He to continue his training. She to continue to hone her legerdemain. 

How fortunate, that they should reunite in one of the very same haunts that their fathers frequented together.

He raised the glass, grateful when he saw the subtle nod from the bartender, a sign that lemon would be  _ all _ that he should find in the shot. 

“To home,” he toasted, tapping the glass against Zatanna’s before throwing it back in time with her. 

He made a mental note to tip the bartender again later, as his face puckered against the tartness of lemon and water. Bruce Wayne’s growing reputation, alongside the state of his sobriety for the night, would be in the clear. 

“Color me pleasantly shocked,” the magician smiled, “To think that the Bruce  _ I _ grew up with, knows how to party.”

“And the Zanna I knew would bust my chops either way,” he quipped back, returning the glasses back to the bar before gesturing for a move to an empty booth at the far side of the venue.

“The more we change…”

She took the seat across from him before turning slightly to watch the patrons milling before them. 

The bar was busy, bodies moving directly into the place they had just cleared and conversations and laughter growing as more guests drank their fill. Bruce couldn’t help but notice amongst the patrons, a pair of shadier characters at the far side of the bar. A nondescript briefcase was handed none-too-subtly over the bartop and disappeared under the counter. 

He shouldn’t have expected anything less from such a venue. Every locale in the city was just like this. If a place had moderate business, it was one of many facades for the mob to launder their money. Whether it was a nightclub, a hotel, a diner. It didn’t matter. 

“This place used to be clean when we were kids,”  Zatanna mused, as if guessing exactly where Bruce’s mind was at. 

A part of him wondered for a moment if she  _ had _ read it. But Zatara had been the same way. Being observant of one’s audience and having the ability to read people was a titular requirement of a magician. It was an ability both he and Zatanna had ended up bonding over. There was even a time when Giovanni had tried tempting Bruce to seriously consider working in their act, but Bruce was simply too engrossed in mastering escape artistry and too driven by his other goals.

“It’s just older,” he laughed, playing the oblivious socialite. A role that he knew was expected of him.

“I would hardly call that dirty.”

“You know what I  _ mean _ .”

And try as he might, the look that she leveled at him sent a shiver right through his spine. A look that cut right through the pretenses he was trying to set, through the front that he was carrying. She  _ knew _ him. She knew how upsetting it was that a place their fathers frequented, a venue that was so innocuous on its surface, was now a hotbed for Gotham crime families. And she knew how badly they both wished they could take it back.

“This isn’t you, Bruce,” she continued, “You know you don’t have to pretend around me.”

He opened his mouth to protest, then quickly shut it.

“Is it my acting that needs work?” he chuckled. “Or-”

“I mean all of this. The parties, the drinking. A new mysterious woman in your bed every night?” she laughed lowly, this time without any of the mirth she had before, “Believe it or not, girls talk. And from what I’ve heard, the rumors have been highly exaggerated.”

Bruce tried to give a dismissive laugh again, one last attempt to assuage her. 

“Well that certainly  _ hurts- _ ”

“I mean, if you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re in the closet, you could at  _ least _ come clean to  _ some _ of those poor girls.”

He let his jaw drop for a moment, before he felt a roll of genuine, uncontrollable laughter, as he recognized the misunderstanding. He never anticipated  _ this _ conclusion being drawn, when he set out to establish all of these alibis of his. And yet...

“Don’t laugh! I thought we were friends, Bruce!” she hissed harshly, “I mean, especially since I shared all of  _ my _ damn crushes with you-”

“When we were  _ seventeen- _ !”

“And you never shared a single one of yours with  _ me- _ !”

“Zanna, I’m not gay,” he chuckled again, hands raised in surrender, “I-”

And it was then, that he realized he’d backed himself into a corner. 

A friend who was able to cut him right down, making an assumption he never saw coming, was already so close to getting him to expose his newest secret. 

“I can’t explain it now,” he opted, eyes turning away at the admittance of a half-truth, “But there  _ is _ a reason.”

“Well, when you figure it out, I’d  _ love _ to hear it,” she shook her head before taking a sip of her drink, “And just in case it wasn’t clear before, I’ll always accept you, Bruce.”

“Warts and all?” he asked, holding up his pinky finger. 

It was a childish gambit, playing on each of their senses of nostalgia, but he could tell from the gleam in her eyes that it worked. 

“Warts and all,” she confirms, raising her hand and curling her own digit around his.

When they released one another, the magician sat back in her seat, taking short sips of her drink before breaking the ice once again. 

“So does this mean that none of those girls  _ ever _ had a chance or…?”

Bruce couldn’t contain his laughter once again. 

“Why, Ms. Zatara, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were trying to set me up with someone.”

“Just wondering if you’ve explored your options,” she mused, swirling her drink mindlessly for a moment before stealing a glance his way, “And I’m just wondering about mine.”

He could feel his eyebrows raise involuntarily, the immediate shock plain on his face even as he tried to recover quickly from the confession. He looked away and settled back to people-watching to regain his bearings. 

“I didn’t realize…”

“Trust me,” she chuckled, “I know. Even when I was  _ literally _ throwing myself at you as a kid.”

She snickered once, then finished off what was left of her drink. 

“Maybe that’s why I figured… Well, at least if I wasn’t the  _ only _ girl you’d been rejecting... That felt like evidence enough.”

“You’re… different from those girls, though, Zanna-“

“Whoa, careful what you say next, Bee. I outgrew my  _ Not Like Other Girls _ phase way too long ago. I can’t have you restarting it  _ now _ .” 

“What I mean is,” he sighed. Candor was never his strong suit, but for her, he could afford just a little vulnerability.

“You’re my friend, Zanna. And… I’m not sure… what it would mean if-”

“If we take it further?” she guessed the finish before the words could leave his mouth, and he only nodded in affirmation. 

She thinks on it a moment before she seems to settle on her words. 

“We’ll never know if we never try.”


	2. Philosophy

She sat in the booth, watching the spring rain as it pelted the street in sheets of gray, grateful for the warmth and comfort that the diner afforded her. This was meant to be an early evening affair, long before when she suspected Bruce would begin his nightly routine. Zatanna had suggested the  _ mom-and-pop _ diner that rested just two blocks from the Grand Avenue station, as it was one of the few places in the city that she knew and trusted to carry the best peach cobbler on the east coast. Bruce would just have to learn to forgive her for playing so much into their shared nostalgia.

This dinner date was  _ her _ idea, of course. A half-step forward for them. No promises, no commitment except to be here and to have a good time.

She took a sip of her chamomile tea, and resisted the temptation to check her watch.

After all, this was also her  _ third _ attempt at arranging such a date.

The first time she had been, for lack of a better term, stood up. Granted, there was a call. There was also a fervent apology, an exchange of an inside joke, and subdued laughter shared. But it left Zatanna with an odd feeling, one she brushed aside at the time.

The second round, she’d been more proactive, and had invited him to dinner after her new show. After months of small-time performances, she’d finally built enough recognition and credibility to put together a one-of-a-kind illusion to truly put her in the spotlight; making the money in the Gotham Mint disappear.

After it failed to reappear, she feared the trick would very well be her last.

It was just her luck, then, that Gotham’s recent resident rooftop stalker had taken an interest in her predicament. And even better fortune that he turned out to be a cherished friend.

They’d caught the culprit together through that harrowing adventure, and by the end of it she’d nearly forgotten the dinner they were meant to share after the show that evening. 

The dinner she was finally holding him to now. 

She jumped, startled out of her reverie by the sound of Bruce’s voice asking, “ _ Is this seat taken?” _

He dressed down today; designer jeans that looked ill-fitted to his figure, and a  _ Gray Ghost _ sweatshirt, of all things. She wondered for a moment if he had just rolled out of bed before coming here, or if this choice of ensemble was really as organic as he was trying so desperately to make it seem. The rain still clung to his hair and jacket, which he folded neatly at his side. He took the seat across from her without waiting for an answer, thanking the waitress for the freshly brewed coffee he’d ordered at the counter. 

After giving the waitress their orders, they sat in companionable silence, each one sipping their warm drinks carefully and sizing the other up. Tapping a nail rhythmically against the cup, Zatanna was the first to speak. 

Better to break the ice as soon as possible, long silences were never her strong suit.

“So… Batman, huh?  _ He’s _ made quite a stir.”

For what it was worth, Bruce hesitated only a fraction of a second before giving a dismissive laugh.

“He’s a bit of an ass from what I’ve heard. I take it your disappearance after your arrest was his doing?”

The magician raised her brow, crossing her arms at his words. He wasn’t the only one allowed to be so disingenuous. 

“Funny,” she said icily, “He reminded me of someone, actually.”

“Anyone I know?” he asked, slyly taking another sip of his coffee and glancing away to watch the rain. 

Zatanna balled her fists tighter, before slowly releasing them. Now was not the time to call him out. If Bruce wanted to play chess, she’d very well find a way to make him tip the board long before she does it herself.

“He’s someone I’m sure  _ you’d  _ find agreeable.”

“And how would you figure that?”

She gave a shrug of her own before finally unfolding her arms to reach for her drink once more.

“You both favor masks over genuine connection with others, for one thing.”

She smiled as the billionaire began coughing, spewing half-inhaled coffee into his hand. The  _ Gray Ghost _ now sported a grisly splatter across his goggles. Zee almost thought she heard the shutter of a camera from somewhere in the diner, a telltale sign of paparazzi.

No doubt that this little excursion would be making its way to ten different gossip columns.

“There’s other qualities too, of course,” she relented after he’d done a piss-poor job of cleaning up after himself, handing him her own napkin as a peace offering. 

“Dare I ask what they might be?” he chuckled lowly.

“Hmm, you’re driven... Intense and clearly passionate about what you do. But I still think that you go about things the wrong way,” she paused before amending, “You  _ and _ Batman, that is.”

“And the right way would be…?”

She pulled her own mug up to her face, inhaling the aroma one more time as she closed her eyes. 

“Well, for one thing, like when you helped me.”

Her eyes met Bruce’s, a pleading hope against measured skepticism. She frowned as she set aside the mug and folded her hands, one atop the other on the table’s surface. 

“You do your best work when you’re helping the  _ individual _ , Bruce, not fighting a collective. You know that our fathers were the same way-”

“There’s too many people that need my help, though,” he argued, “And you know the root of the problem is bigger than any one individual-“

“So don’t take it on all at once,” her frown deepened as her brow furrowed together in anger, “You’re liable to get yourself killed that way. Or was our daring escape not proof enough of that?”

The billionaire snorted softly, “I had it under control-“

“Oh I’m  _ sorry _ , you call escaping from a straitjacket hundreds of feet up in the air  _ ‘under control’-”  _ she scoffed, rolling her eyes before reaching for another napkin. She began to tear at it absentmindedly as she continued, “-I’d hate to see how you run your company.”

“We can talk about that next time.”

“And who says there’s going to be a next time?”

“Your track record, actually,” Bruce smiled, a boastful look, “You’ve always been the type to run towards danger, Zanna, not away from it.”

The magician felt her face flush, but not for the reason he likely thought. There was much that Bruce had missed in their time apart, after all. 

“We’re still not done discussing the topic of  _ this _ date.”

“Which is?”

“Order up!” the waitress announced cheerfully, setting their meals on the table and topping off Bruce’s coffee. After triple-checking with the duo that their meals were to their liking, she turned to attend the next table. 

They each had ordered breakfast for dinner, Zatanna setting aside the eggs and bacon that came with her order of pancakes, and wordlessly passing them off to Bruce. Similarly, he took the time to spread a strawberry jam across his toast, to trade out for her eggs, and to serve as a peace offering of his own.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the meal and forgetting for a moment all of the tension that had slowly risen over the conversation.

And once again, the magician felt a growing dread for that silence.

“I  _ did _ remember to thank you-” 

“Zanna-”

“What I’m trying to say-” she leveled her best glare at him for interrupting, nearly breaking when he let an apologetic smile slip back, “-is that I’m  _ grateful- _ ”

“-Then  _ you’re welcome- _ ”

“-And  _ concerned _ .”

He met her gaze, his steel blue eyes reflecting the gray rain outside their window. She stiffened in her seat, setting aside her utensils in favor of folding her hands on the tabletop one more time.

“Far be it from me to  _ stop you _ , especially given all the mixed signals I got from  _ my own dad _ about starting a career in vigilantism-”

“Wouldn’t do, to have a Zatara be called a hypocrite,” he quipped.

“But you worry me,” she said, ignoring the jab, “You’re already catching so much attention and then there’s that whole  _ ‘shoot on sight’ _ order-”

“That’s-”

“Bruce, let me say my piece,” she huffed, crossing her arms and sending him her most scathing glare, “I’m sure you’re not actively trying to get yourself killed, but I’m worried that if you keep knocking on death’s door, sooner or later, she’s going to answer. Not to mention that there  _ has _ to be a better way to go about cleaning up this city.”

“Individually, instead of collectively?” he recalled, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“I’ve said my piece,” she relented, picking her fork back up to tear into the last remaining pancake once more. She gestured with it in hand, a motion for him to speak next.

“In my work,” he began, “There are many cases to consider, and there are individuals who I can help along the way. But a solved murder here and a heist foiled there, won’t stop the greater machinations at work.”

He paused for a moment to take another drink, closing his eyes and steepling his hands as he mused.

“In the broadest sense, I agree with you, Zanna. And I truly do wish that there was a way for Batman to stop every mugger, every drug dealer, every minor abuse and infraction against the most vulnerable. But as it stands the  _ families _ aren’t going to back down just because a masked man is running along the rooftops at night, scaring their underlings.

“I’m doing everything I can… and it’s not enough,” he admitted, leveling his gaze at her again, “It’ll never be enough.”

The magician gave a long sigh, turning away from his gaze to watch the rain again as it continued its relentless torrent on the street. 


	3. Occupation

The theatre made Bruce uncomfortable, to say the least. But it was more so the leaving that made his stomach churn and his palms sweat. The years since he’d last step foot in the Monarch were never lost on him, but with Zatanna holding securely onto his arm, he was tethered to the present, rather than sinking into the past.

He felt a wave of ease wash over him, when upon their exit, the summer sun was still up and the street was filled with bustling afternoon traffic.

A Sunday matinee, while cutting deeper into his sleep cycle than he would normally care for, turned out to be the perfect answer to Zatanna’s request for a daytime date together. The show itself was certainly entertaining enough; a rather dramatic musical with equal parts intrigue and tension. Almost equally as entertaining, however, had to be the notes that the magician couldn’t help but share during instrumental beats or intermissions. She’d held her tongue through the finale and the final bow, and even in their journey through the lobby. Bruce, however, made the first of two fatal mistakes that day.

As they strolled down the sidewalk he had ventured to ask her, “ _ Final thoughts _ ?”

And with that, the floodgates had opened once more.

“I’m not saying I could’ve done  _ better _ than the lead,” she started, a joke in her tone and a half-smile on her face, “But there’s a reason Dad poured so much money into voice lessons when I was a kid.”

“To get you out of his hair for an hour?” Bruce teased, chuckling when she gave his side a poke in retaliation. 

“I’m serious! There was a time where I really considered making a go of it for theatre. Hell, Dad almost let me try out for a couple of those cheesy movies he was in-“

“I say this with a lot of love, Zanna, but they were awful,” he nodded, the barest hint of a joking smile not leaving his face, “Downright dreadful.”

“Hey! Only I get to speak ill of them!” she laughed. 

“What changed your mind, though?”

She hummed for a moment before shrugging, “It didn’t make me as happy as magic does. And that’s really what it boils down to, right? If what you’re doing makes you happy?”

She readjusted her arm on his as they continued their walk along the sidewalk. 

“Are… you happy with your work, Bruce?”

The question left a knot in his stomach, as he recalled the last couple of cases he worked. A missing child safely returned home, a grisly murder where the leads ran cold, another drug bust that, while a success, ultimately did not lead him to the next rung of the drug-runners’ ladder. 

“It makes me… content at times,” he haltingly confessed. 

“I don’t mean  _ that _ work,” she clarified, “I mean with your company. You… do have a say in it, don’t you?”

“Of course. I’m the CEO.”

“But what does that  _ mean _ to you?” she gave a breathy laugh, shaking her head, “What do you get from it?”

Though they were less than a block away now from their destination, the question had Bruce halting in his tracks. He let Zatanna’s arm slip from his, but held fast to her hand to help her from tripping at the sudden stop.

“I… suppose it’s about duty. Instead of being about fulfillment.”

“And that duty… is to your parents,” she realized, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Of course it is.  _ All _ of it is.”

“I can’t imagine  _ your _ decision was completely free of  _ your _ father’s influence-”

“It’s not a judgement, Bruce-”

“No, of course not,” he scowled, breaking the grip she had on his hand and taking a step back, “But I never thought you of all people would  _ pity _ me-”

“When have you  _ ever _ known me to  _ pity _ you?” she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms defensively. And Bruce knew he’d made his second, infinitely more fatal mistake.

“You’re not the only one to lose a parent.”

“Zanna, you know-”

“I know,” she uncrossed her arms, but only to raise them in halting his approach. An uncertain distance between them now, and a telling silence befalling the duo. As the flow of sidewalk traffic continued around them, Zatanna sighed and motioned for Bruce to join her along a shop’s windowsill.

They took their seats, simultaneously grumbling in defeat before glancing at one another in annoyance.

For once, Bruce was the first to break the tension with a low chuckle, shaking his head and placing his hand over the magician’s.

“I’m sorry. I’m an ass.”

“Me too. Sorry, that is,” she clarified, giving a winning smile as she gave a half-flirtatious, fully ironic head toss to throw her hair out of her face, “I’ve  _ never _ been an ass,  _ ever _ , in my life,  _ of course _ .”

“Of course,” he laughed, heart skipping a beat as she finally turned her hand up to interlock their fingers together, “Have you… heard from Zatara at all?”

He winced as she tensed at the question, beginning to pull her hand away again. He held tighter, shifting to face her more fully as he pressed. 

“ _ Zanna… _ ”

“No,” she admitted quietly, “I’ve done so many shows and reached out to all the old contacts and… I haven’t heard  _ anything _ from him in  _ so long _ ...”

“I’m sure he’s just-”

“He missed my  _ birthday _ ,” she muttered, her voice cracking slightly, “He’s  _ never _ missed my birthday, Bruce.”

A shock runs down the man’s spine, as she leans into his side then, half-burying her face into his shoulder. 

“He’s all I’ve ever had and I don’t know what to do. Where do I even start? I should’ve-”

Without thinking, Bruce reached over and lifted Zatanna’s chin until he had a clear view of her face. Tears were welling in her eyes, but she was doing an admirable job keeping them at bay, her lips now forming a firm line with the effort. 

“You’ll find him, Zanna. And if there’s anything I can do to help-”

He was surprised again, as she draped her arms over his shoulders, partly reaching and partly pulling him down into a kiss.

It was chaste and sweet, he could taste a salty tear mixing with her waxy berry lip balm. Before he closed his eyes completely, he lifted his hand to her face, subtly wiping another tear away as he titled more fully into the kiss. Another taste of her lips, and then she pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Interrupted,” he smiled, “Like I was saying. Anything I can do. Just ask.”

“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know,” she nodded, wiping her own tear away this time as she leaned away from him, “We should get going.”

“I don’t have any meetings to get to,” he joked, taking her hand before she stood up too far, “And you don’t  _ do _ rehearsals on weekends-”

“Does that mean you’ll answer my question?”

He blinked once, twice, before furrowing his brow at her.

“What question?”

She rolled her eyes, “About your work, Bruce. Other than for our parents,  _ why _ do we do what we do?”

He nodded then, turning from her as he leaned back against the window. Watching the sidewalk before them, as Gothamites continued going about their day, he gave her an answer. 


	4. Philanthropy

She gave a slight frown as she adjusted his golden bowtie, frustration mounting as it titled too far now in the opposite direction from its previous position. 

“ _ NETHGIARTS PU _ ,” she commanded through gritted teeth, cracking a smile as Bruce’s posture stiffened and his tie righted itself.

“Sorry,” she gently apologized, smoothing out the folds of his jacket and fretting over his outfit.

The white velvet smoking jacket was a striking choice for evening wear, especially when compared to the standard black tuxedos they both normally would wear to events such as these. With the tie and golden cufflinks complementing her own dress, they appeared as a matching unit. Whether they would choose to confirm the rumors of their mutual interest in one another to the paparazzi that awaited outside of the gallery, was another matter entirely. 

_ No matter what, tonight will keep the gossip rags busy for another week, at least _ , Zatanna thought idly before taking Bruce’s hand in her own.

“I trust that you’ll keep Master Bruce out of trouble tonight, Miss Zatara?” Alfred asked, catching a brief glance of the duo in his rearview mirror. 

The magician flashed him her most winning smile in response.

“On the contrary, I may just drag him into some.”

“And put him at risk of genuine enjoyment of a social event?” he scoffed, a twinkle in his eye, “Perish the thought.”

“I enjoy plenty of-”

“Bruce, everyone here knows your tells,” she chided, bumping her shoulder against his as she smiled, “So let’s save the acting for the cameras.”

Despite how long she’s spent in literal spotlights, Zatanna had learned that nothing blinded quite the same way that twenty flashbulbs going off at once did. As soon as the car had been brought to a stop, the photographers present were instantaneously clicking away. Between Bruce’s tensed shoulders and her own waning patience, she knew they were in for a long walk into the venue. She put on her brightest smile regardless, gratefully taking Bruce’s arm as he helped her out of the town car and turning back to give Alfred a quiet word of thanks as he shut the door behind her.

“A warning would be much appreciated, should you or Master Bruce decide to abscond sooner than planned,” he reminded, “Otherwise I shall be pulling up promptly at midnight, as agreed.”

“We’ll find a way to manage till then, Alfred,” Bruce laughed. They exchanged curt nods before the butler turned to enter the vehicle.

“Big smiles,” Zatanna murmured, giving a gentle tug at Bruce’s arm to cue him in leading her down the walkway. 

“Security isn’t nearly as high as the Founder’s Day Ball,” Bruce observed, stopping a few yards in to pose with the magician, blinking in recovery a few times after that group of photojournalists appeared satisfied with their pictures.

“Could be because the mayor is sitting this one out?” she suggested.

“Possibly…”

Try as he might, Zatanna knew the tension that Bruce was carrying in his shoulders wouldn’t be leaving him anytime soon tonight. After they paused one more time halfway down the walkway, she decided to pivot his train of thought.

“I heard the coordinators have…  _ preemptively _ met their goal to put twenty-five thousand students through the gallery,” she hummed, “You wouldn’t happen to know the billionaires that we can thank for their generous donations?”

“I think the chairman of the Wayne Foundation is in attendance tonight with his partner-”

“And did anyone  _ besides _ you foot the bill, Bruce?” Zee taunted.

He was silent a moment longer than she was expecting.

“The Foundation works to-”

“You’re kidding,” she shook her head as they finally crossed into the museum’s lobby.

Despite her growing frustration, she made sure to thank the wait staff, who greeted them with flutes of champagne. She turned her attention back to the billionaire beside her, but not before taking a generous drink.

“So the auction? The dinner and dancing? Is this all meant to be self-congratulatory for Gotham’s elite, for a job done by  _ one _ ?”

“So long as it means the job is  _ done _ ,” Bruce grimaced, “I have yet to see any other families or companies step up in the same way my parents did. Even what I do now…”

He sighed, absentmindedly swirling the wine in its glass for a moment.

“Every donation that we encourage tonight means one more student that has the opportunity to see this art. Another student who maybe finds inspiration, or motivation. It’s true that we set admittedly mediocre goals to purposely exceed them, Zanna, but  _ that’s the point _ .  _ They _ need to feel like they’re helping in ways that just  _ one _ can’t. That  _ they’re _ somehow outdoing what a  _ Wayne _ can’t accomplish alone.”

“How incredibly contrived,” she scoffed, taking another sip of the champagne as she took in the scene of the lobby.

Patrons and their guests were gathered into little social bubbles, demure chatter that barely rose above the live band’s music that wafted from somewhere deeper in the building. She noticed a few groups breaking apart, half of them greeting socialites from the other circles, others drifting off to explore the exhibition halls that were selectively open for tonight’s activities.

“I seem to recall Zatara partnering with Mother on more than one occasion, to raise money or awareness for the children’s clinic-”

“That’s a little different-”

“Or the time that he took a check, solely to be donated to Gotham’s first no-kill animal shelter?”

“That was-”

“I’ve got at least seven other examples,” he laughed lightly, swapping her near empty flute for his own, still full one. “Or do you really want me to list them all?”

She could only stand there and give him a scowl, as he took a small, smug sip from her drink. 

“ _ Lightweight _ ,” she bit out, turning away and storming towards an exhibit at random. 

“ _ Zanna _ .”

She didn’t turn to see his face, but she knew from that tone, that he must’ve looked exasperated. She continued her sulking march, until she came across a room that was blessedly empty, save for the occasional patrons that passed it by. 

“ _ Why _ did you bring me here tonight, Bruce?” 

She finally turned to look at him, stiffening when their eyes met and she could see the reproachful look in his. 

“Because you’re leaving-”

“Not till September,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “But I’ll rephrase... why did you bring me  _ here _ ?”

He let out his own sigh then, almost taking the last few steps closer to join her in front of an impressionist piece. He hesitated, though, taking a seat on a bench opposite of her and the painting instead. Considering the empty glass still in his hand for a moment, his eyes lifted to meet hers again.

“I wanted you to see the other work I’m trying to inspire. The  _ other _ way I’m trying to save Gotham.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but came up empty, turning away from him instead.

“There’s so much that needs to be done, Zanna. There’s so much that I need to do-”

“You could ask for  _ help _ ,” she snapped, immediately taken aback by the venom she felt in her words.

“I’m sorry. I-”

“No,” Bruce stood up, “I can’t change your mind when you’ve already made it up.”

He took those last few steps between them before taking her hand.

“And I would hope that you’d afford me the same courtesy.”

After a few seconds, she squeezed his hand back. 

“Don’t make me regret leaving,” she threatened, though it was more of a tease, “And don’t expect me to stay out of Gotham forever. This is my home too, Bruce.”

“Find Zatara first,” he chuckled, pulling her along encouragingly and changing the subject, “You’re welcome to try outbidding me tonight, though. If it’ll take your mind off things.”

“Careful there, Bee, I might just surprise you.”

She let go of his hand in favor of clinging onto his arm once again, and tried to forget the knot that had formed in the back of her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original plan was to release a chapter a night (because i am very close to finishing the final one, and the 5th is still in process as well)  
> rest assured, this WILL be done soon (hopefully by the end of the week altho i make no promises), but i'll be taking a mini-hiatus to wrap those last two chapters up. till then, feel free to Explore My Other Wares here on ao3 or bother me over on tumblr lmao (@dyketectivecomics)  
> see y'all soon! <3


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